Chapter 7: The Room Behind the Wall
The Cole house looked exactly as I remembered it.
That was the problem.
The same white stone columns. The same black iron gates. The same perfectly trimmed hedges. Even the fountain in the center of the circular driveway still made that soft, steady sound my mother used to call peaceful.
Nothing about the house looked like a place where my supposedly dead brother had been hiding for six years.
I parked the Lamborghini beneath the covered entrance.
Nia looked at the building.
“This is where you grew up?””
“Yeah.””
“And your father lives here alone?””
“Mostly.””
She frowned.
“Mostly?””
I didn't answer.
Calvin's SUV stopped several yards behind us.
He got out and approached my window.
“Before you go inside,” he said, “there's something you need to understand.””
I opened the door.
“What?””
“Your father isn't the only person who knows about the hidden room.””
“Who else?””
“Someone who has access to the house.””
“Who?””
Calvin looked at Nia.
She stepped forward.
“Say it.””
He lowered his voice.
“Your father's housekeeper.””
I frowned.
“Mrs. Ellis?””
“She knows.””
“She’s been with my family for twenty years.””
“Exactly.””
Nia looked at me.
“You trust her?””
“I did.””
Calvin shook his head.
“Don't trust anyone until you know why they're loyal.””
I looked toward the house.
“Where is Marcus?””
“Somewhere inside.””
“You said he was hiding here.””
“He was.””
“Was?””
Calvin glanced at his watch.
“He moved.””
My stomach tightened.
“When?””
“Tonight.””
“Why?””
“Because your father came back earlier than expected.””
I stared at him.
“Where did Marcus go?””
Calvin pointed toward the house.
“Find Room 17.””
“That doesn't exist.””
“It does.””
I turned toward Nia.
She nodded.
“Let's go.””
The front door opened before we reached it.
Mrs. Ellis stood there.
She was seventy, elegant, and composed as always.
“Mr. Adrian.””
Her eyes moved toward the Lamborghini.
Then to Nia.
“Who is your friend?””
“Nia.””
Mrs. Ellis smiled politely.
“Welcome.””
I watched her carefully.
“Where's my father?””
“In his study.””
“Has anyone been here tonight?””
She hesitated.
“No.””
Calvin stepped closer.
“That's a lie.””
Mrs. Ellis's smile disappeared.
“Calvin.””
“You know what room he used.””
Her eyes widened.
I felt my pulse rise.
“Mrs. Ellis,” I said, “what room?””
She looked at me.
For the first time in twenty years, she looked frightened.
“Mr. Adrian, please.””
“Where is Room 17?””
She closed her eyes.
Then whispered, “Downstairs.””
My father had a wine cellar beneath the house.
I'd been there dozens of times as a child.
But Mrs. Ellis led us beyond it, toward a narrow corridor I had never noticed.
At the end was a plain wooden door.
No handle.
No lock.
Just a brass plate.
*17.*
I took the key from my pocket.
Calvin grabbed my arm.
“Wait.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
“Marcus told you not to open it.””
“He also told me to find it.””
“He didn't say open it.””
Nia stepped between us.
“Then what are we supposed to do?””
Calvin pointed toward the wall.
“Listen.””
We all became still.
At first, nothing.
Then—
A faint sound.
Breathing.
Someone was on the other side.
I pressed my palm against the door.
“Marcus?””
Silence.
“Marcus, it's me.””
No answer.
I looked at Nia.
She whispered, “Try again.””
“Marcus, it's Adrian.””
A voice finally came through.
“Don't.””
I froze.
It was him.
My brother.
Older.
Rougher.
But unmistakable.
“Marcus?””
“Go away.””
My eyes burned.
“I spent seven years thinking you were dead.””
“I know.””
“You let me.””
“I had no choice.””
“Open the door.””
“No.””
“Why?””
A pause.
“Because if you open it, they know you're here.””
“Who?””
No answer.
I looked at Calvin.
He shook his head.
Then the house lights went out.
Nia grabbed my arm.
“What happened?””
Calvin pulled a flashlight from his jacket.
“Power.””
A sound came from upstairs.
A door slamming.
Then footsteps.
Fast.
Someone was running through the house.
Calvin drew his weapon.
“Stay behind me.””
I stared at him.
“You brought a gun?””
“I came prepared.””
The footsteps stopped.
Mrs. Ellis whispered, “He's here.””
“Who?”” I asked.
She looked at the hidden door.
“The man Marcus was hiding from.””
A shadow moved across the far end of the corridor.
Calvin raised his weapon.
“Don't move!””
The shadow disappeared.
A second later, glass shattered upstairs.
Calvin ran toward the stairs.
Nia looked at me.
“We need to get out.””
“No.””
“Adrian—”
“Marcus is behind this door.””
I inserted the key.
It turned.
A heavy click echoed through the corridor.
The door unlocked.
I hesitated.
Then Marcus's voice came from inside.
“Adrian…”
I pushed the door open.
The room was empty.
Except for a chair.
A desk.
A mattress.
And dozens of photographs covering the walls.
Every photograph was of my family.
My father.
Me.
Marcus.
Vanessa.
And one woman I recognized immediately.
My mother.
But she had died twelve years earlier.
I moved closer.
Nia stared at the photographs.
“Adrian…”
I picked up one.
It showed my mother standing outside the family house.
The date printed beneath it was seven years after her death.
My hands went numb.
“That’s impossible.””
Nia pointed to another photograph.
“This one is dated last month.””
It showed my father speaking with a man.
The man's face was turned away.
But the clothing was familiar.
Black jacket.
Baseball cap.
I looked at Calvin.
He had gone pale.
“That isn't Marcus,” he whispered.
“Then who is it?””
Before he could answer, a piece of paper slid from beneath the desk.
I picked it up.
There was only one sentence.
*Your mother didn't die when you think she did.*
My breath caught.
Then my father's voice came from behind us.
“Adrian.””
I turned.
He stood in the doorway.
His face was devastated.
Not angry.
Not surprised.
Devastated.
He looked at the photographs.
Then at me.
“You weren't supposed to find this.””
I held up the paper.
“Was Mom alive seven years ago?””
My father didn't answer.
“Dad.””
His eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.””
Nia covered her mouth.
I stepped closer.
“Where is she?””
May you like
My father whispered:
“She’s the reason Marcus disappeared.””